


The Field Trip

by TackyPenguin



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Art museum, Friendship, Gen, Hackle if you squint?, Hecate makes a friend, Mansplaining, Slice of Life, mansplainers getting their comeuppance, non-graphic depiction of illness, slight pagan religious practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TackyPenguin/pseuds/TackyPenguin
Summary: When Miss Cackle decides that it's time for the Academy's first years to go on a field trip into the Ordinary world, Mildred Hubble is delighted. Miss Hardbroom, who has been assigned to chaperone, is... less delighted.





	The Field Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas, [hecate-by-moonlight](https://hecate-by-moonlight.tumblr.com/) and [alexofmacedonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofmacedonia)! Couldn't have done it without you guys.

It was a Monday morning near the very end of term, and Hecate Hardbroom had a headache, both literal and metaphorical. It ought to have been Miss Cackle making this announcement. Unfortunately for Hecate, however, Ada was going to be away at a conference all week, and thus the questionable pleasure had fallen to her.

First-year girls began clomping by twos and threes into her classroom, chattering away and causing a general ruckus. Hecate, standing behind her desk chair, pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to wince. The noise certainly wasn’t doing her headache any favours.

“Girls,” she intoned softly at nine o’clock sharp, intentionally pitching her voice so that the little hellions would have to quieten down in order to hear her. “Your attention. I have an announcement to make.”

Excited whispers sprung up around the room, and Hecate closed her eyes briefly in dismay at her students’ continued lack of subtlety. None of them ever seemed to realise that the shape of the room meant that the walls threw every sound back at her, allowing her to hear everything the girls said.

There was a smattering of anxiety - unsurprising, given that most of this year’s announcements had been unusually dire in nature. There were the usual wild speculations - that the academy was to become a coed school, or that classes would let out a week early, or that when they became second-years next term they would each be allowed an additional cat. Ridiculous. And of course, there were also the unflattering mutters that hoped Miss Hardbroom herself was, perhaps, retiring. Or had accepted employment elsewhere. Or had been _let go_.

Her headache spiked behind her eyes, and she clenched her jaw. “Silence,” she hissed, and the whispers ceased immediately. She smiled tightly. Her reputation had its uses.

“This Friday,” she continued in measured tones, “your year will be going on a… field trip.” The words _field trip_ were delivered dripping with the appropriate amount of disdain.

“As I am certain you all know,” her gaze lingered on Mildred Hubble as she cut through the whispers that were starting up again, “to reveal ourselves as witches to the Ordinary public is _strictly_ forbidden by the Witches’ Code.” Her fingers curled around the elaborate finials that decorated the back of her chair.

“As such,” she went on, meeting the eyes of each pupil in turn, “the Headmistress feels that it is time for you to practice your discretion in an Ordinary setting. We will be traveling by… _bus_ …” — her lip curled involuntarily into a sneer — “to an… art museum.”

She watched from the corner of her eye as the Hubble girl straightened up, excitement painting the child’s face, but fixed her gaze firmly on Ethel Hallow instead. “At no time,” she said, keeping her tone quietly threatening, “will any of you reveal yourself, your teacher, or your fellow pupils to be witches.”

Her fingers tightened on her chair. “Fail to heed this instruction, and the consequences will be… _severe_.”

Absolute silence. Bliss. A pity it would only be momentary.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to continue. “In order to keep you all on your best behaviour, you will be accompanied by two chaperones — myself, and Ms. Hubble.”

As predicted, there was an immediate commotion surrounding Mildred Hubble, whose expression suggested an unholy admixture of surprise and delight.

“That’s your mum, Millie!” Maud Spellbody whispered loudly. Hecate closed her eyes against the inanity and sent up a silent prayer for patience.

“My mum’s coming on a field trip!” said Mildred, her eyes shining. “I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” said Hecate, her headache settling into a steady throb and making her words perhaps more curt than intended. “Now, to this morning’s lesson.”

—————

“You are certain that this contraption is safe, Ms. Hubble?”

Julie looked across the aisle of the bus at Miss Hardbroom to find that the usually stern and intimidating witch was looking a bit peaky as she picked at the buttons of her sleeve cuffs, looking uneasy in the Ordinary clothes.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Statistically speaking, you know, more people are killed each year by bee stings than in bus accidents.”

“I see,” said Miss Hardbroom, who didn’t look especially reassured.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The girls were being a little rowdy, but nothing so bad that any active chaperoning was necessary. Julie gazed out the window and watched the road go by.

Then, “I am concerned about the air on this bus,” said Miss Hardbroom, just loudly enough for Julie to hear.

“Sorry, what?” she looked over. “The air?”

“I am... feeling somewhat unwell,” the witch admitted. She did look rather green.

“Ah,” said Julie, biting back a chuckle. “You’re probably just a bit motion sick. Do you want a Kwells tablet?” She picked her purse up from the seat next to her and unzipped it.

“Do I want a _what_?” Miss Hardbroom’s question managed to sound both disparaging and nauseated simultaneously.

“It’s to combat motion sickness.” Julie peered into her purse, rummaging around. “Or I’ve got some ginger, to help settle your stomach?”

Miss Hardbroom looked intensely relieved. “Please,” she said. “If it’s no trouble, Ms. Hubble?”

“No trouble at all,” Julie assured her, handing over her little plastic baggie of candied ginger. “And please, do call me Julie.”

“Very well,” agreed Miss Hardbroom, carefully retrieving a cube of ginger and placing it in her mouth. She politely finished chewing and swallowing before asking, “Do you have any other advice for this… ‘motion sickness’?”

Julie shrugged. “Well, they say to look ahead at a fixed point, but I’ve always had more success with closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. You might try that?”

Hecate swallowed hard as the bus went over a pothole, and reached for another piece of ginger. “You will keep an eye on the girls?”

“Of course!” Julie patted Hecate on the knee and tried not to laugh at her subsequently appalled expression. “Don’t worry,” she promised, “I’ve got it.”

—————

That afternoon, Mildred and her friends watched surreptitiously from several paintings over as an Ordinary man walked up and stood next to Miss Hardbroom as she was admiring _The Night of Enitharmon’s Joy_.

“Ah!” he said jovially, “I see you’ve found Hecate!”

Miss Hardbroom said nothing at all. She didn’t even turn to look at the man. Mildred couldn’t see her face from this angle, but she would have bet her last magic mirror credit that her teacher’s eyebrows were raised in irritated astonishment at this stranger’s nerve.

The man hooked his thumbs in his braces and rocked onto the balls of his feet. “She’s a _very_ interesting figure, you know,” he said, apparently not the slightest bit put off by the chilly reception. “Did you know—”

“I did know, yes.” Miss Hardbroom cut him off curtly. Mildred couldn’t resist a grin. She was certain the older witch knew everything there was to know about her namesake — and given the importance that witches placed on tradition, that was probably a lot more than the Ordinary community remembered about the old goddess.

“Ah, an enthusiast!” the man exclaimed. “I’ve made rather a study of her, you know.” He nodded conspiratorially.

“Ooh, he’s in for it now!” Enid whispered into her ear. Mildred shushed her, wanting neither to miss anything nor to accidentally redirect their prickly teacher’s ire towards her and her friends.

“Is that so.” Miss Hardbroom’s tone was one of utter disinterest, her gaze still fixed on the painting, but Mildred could see that her hands, held stiffly by her sides, were clenched into fists.

“Quite so, quite so! You could say I’m something of an expert, in fact!” he said, and nudged Miss Hardbroom’s arm with his own. Maud let out a gasp from Mildred’s other side.

Miss Hardbroom’s hand shot up, quick as a snake, and seized the offending limb by the arm. “Kindly do not touch me,” she hissed, poison-soft. “You know less than you think.”

For the first time, the man’s demeanor lost some of its overfamiliar chumminess as he drew back, offended. “I will have you know, miss, that I am rather knowledgeable on this subject — and offering to share that knowledge with you, since you’re so obviously interested in learning more! There’s no call to be so rude.”

Mildred inhaled sharply as she felt the slight tingle she was beginning to recognize as the hallmark of another witch using magic close by. Miss Hardbroom finally turned her head to meet the man’s gaze, and Mildred could see her face now. Her eyes shone with the red-orange glow of banked embers, and when she spoke again her words rang with strange echoes, as though several voices were speaking as once.

“What knowledge do you imagine you could possibly have that I do not already possess, little man?” she crooned. The man paled so dramatically that Mildred could see the difference even though he was facing mostly away from her.

Miss Hardbroom’s painted lips curved into a smile that was not the least bit reassuring. “I am Hecate,” she said. “In the future, you would do well to consider before opening your mouth how ill-advised it is to assume that you are wiser than the one to whom you are about to speak.”

She released her grip on the man’s arm, and he stumbled back several paces as she turned back to the painting, studying it perfectly serenely. She paid him no more attention than she would an ant as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket with shaking hands, mopping his brow as he scurried out of the room on unsteady feet.

“Wow,” breathed Maud, awestruck.

“Miss Hardbroom, that was the _bats_!” Enid’s eyes were alight with admiration.

Mildred nodded furiously in agreement. “But, Miss Hardbroom?” she asked, tentative. “Wasn’t that… revealing yourself to be a witch?”

Miss Hardbroom turned to face them. Her eyes had gone back to their usual deep brown, but her cheeks were slightly flushed and her expression shone with what Mildred, if pressed, would have to interpret as barely-concealed savage delight.

“Ah, but what have I revealed, really?” Her voice sounded normal again, too. She shrugged elegantly with one shoulder, long fingers twisting to complete the gesture. “He has no evidence, save his memory, and the memory is notoriously unreliable. He will convince himself that he was mistaken; or he will convince himself that, contrary to his prior assumptions, the old gods are real and he has met one. Even if he were to say something, who would believe him? He has no proof.”

She paused, and her features relaxed into a more familiar thoughtful frown. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you?” she said to Mildred, brusque but not unkind. “A word of warning, then. You must never _impersonate_ a goddess. Not only is it rude, but it invites… retaliation.”

“Er,” said Mildred, confused. “I don’t think I get it. That’s… that’s not what you just did?”

“Certainly not,” said Miss Hardbroom. “Firstly, I already have a good relationship with the goddess Hecate. Not only was I named for her, but I am also her devotee. She knows how much I respect her.

“Secondly,” she went on, a wicked glint to her eye, “at no point did I actually claim to _be_ the goddess. I merely told that irritating little man my name, adopted a frightening appearance, and let him draw his own conclusions.”

“Oh,” said Mildred. “I think I understand. That’s so crafty!” She grinned up at her teacher.

—————

Hecate was saved from the girls noticing her blush at the compliment by Julie Hubble appearing from the next room.

“There you all are!” she said. “I was wondering if everyone would like to visit the tearoom with me before we leave? My treat!”

“Thank you, Julie,” said Hecate. “That’s very kind of you.” She raised her voice. “Come along, girls!” she called.

She sent Maud Spellbody to round up the rest of her year from other areas of the museum, and followed Julie to the tearoom. Perhaps some ginger tea, she thought, in preparation for the return trip on that awful bus.

Julie got the stream of girls through the queue in impressively good time, giving her daughter a squeeze on the shoulder before sending her to join her friends with a small purple box labelled “Ribena”. Hecate watched, bemused, as Mildred deftly detached a straw and used it to stab the corner of the box. How bizarre.

“It’s a blackcurrant drink,” Julie explained, noticing Hecate’s bafflement as she approached with a pair of cups and saucers. “The cardboard boxes are supposed to be harder to break or spill, I think. Not that that ever stopped Mildred!” She sat down across from Hecate and passed her the ginger tea.

“I see.” Hecate nodded her thanks for both the tea and the explanation, gallantly forwent the opportunity to further discuss Mildred Hubble’s propensity for breaking things, and raised the cup to her lips for a tentative sip. It was surprisingly delicious.

Julie took a sip of her own tea and sighed happily. “Nothing like a cuppa after a day full of children, then, is there?”

“Indeed,” Hecate agreed, resolving to indulge in another cup later that evening with Ada, when her Headmistress returned from her conference. Though really, she supposed, the day had not been so horrible after all. The girls had all behaved themselves unusually well, and conversing with Julie had turned out to be really quite… nice.

—————

Ada arrived home from her conference late in the evening to find Hecate waiting for her in the entrance hall. Happily, her deputy appeared to be in good humour, taking one of Ada’s bags to carry. They took the long way up to her rooms, walking in companionable silence with the ease of long familiarity.

When they arrived, Ada tucked her bags into a corner to deal with later and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace as Hecate set about making a pot of tea. It was as she filled their usual cups that she finally broke their silence.

“How did you find the conference?” she asked, pressing Ada’s teacup into her hands.

Ada cradled the cup, savoring the warmth seeping into her hands. She lifted it up, inhaled the fragrance, and sighed with contentment. “It was wonderful,” she said, smiling up at Hecate, “but I’m glad to be home.”

Hecate, keeping a careful hold of her own teacup so as not to spill it, took a seat in the other armchair and passed Ada a plate of biscuits with her free hand.

“And you?” Ada asked, selecting a bourbon cream. “Dare I ask how the field trip went?”

“Actually,” said Hecate, to Ada’s astonishment, “I think it went rather well — with one exception.” Her dark eyes flashed. “I am never traveling by _bus_ again.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ _The Night of Enitharmon's Joy_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Night_of_Enitharmon%27s_Joy), by William Blake, is part of the Tate's collection, and is often called _Hecate_ or _The Triple Hecate_. It's no longer considered to be a depiction of Hecate at all, and according to the gallery's website it's also not actually currently on display, but... *handwaves* We'll ignore that for the purposes of this fic!


End file.
